When Demetrius stood back up to his feet, he realised that everyone had fallen silent, and five sets of teary eyes were fixed on him. Not wanting to break down in floods of tears himself, Demetrius smiled and deliberately brightened his tone.
“Well, this is it I guess,” he said, considerably more cheerily than he felt. “We had better be off, don’t want to miss that plane!”
Demetrius hugged his aunt and uncle once more, then collected up his suitcase, and handed it over to Jack, who plonked it in the trunk of the Jeep next to Phoebe’s.
“Thank you, all of you, for everything. I’ll call you when we arrive. And start planning when you’re gonna come visit, okay?” Demetrius swallowed hard. “I love you all.” And with that, he descended the steps off the front porch of the house that had been his home for ten years, and climbed into the Wrens’ Jeep, pulling the door closed behind him with a clunk that seemed to resonate with finality.
As Jack pulled away from the Otonnos’ house and on to the road that would bring them to Johannesburg International Airport, Demetrius looked back through the Jeep’s rear window, and waved madly with both hands at the family he was leaving behind. Uncle Esau, Aunt Martha and the kids all waved back until Demetrius could no longer see them, and he turned round to face the front, settled into his seat, and smiled reassuringly at an anxious looking Phoebe.
“I’m okay, Bird,” he said, and the contented smile on his face reiterated this sentiment. “It’s not really goodbye, just ‘so long’ for a while. I’m really excited about what lies ahead.”
“I’m so glad, Dem,” smiled Phoebe, “I just know that you’re gonna love Ireland. And Ella!”
The teenagers relaxed back into the journey; in a few short hours, they would be airborne and en route to Ireland. Phoebe couldn’t wait – but for some reason the gnawing angst in her belly just would not disappear.
CHAPTER 33
Graygor made it to the Mooar Mountain in record time, and wasted no time in scurrying through its dismal corridors to Schnither’s chambers. He barely acknowledged the sentries stationed at Schnither’s closed door, and shot past them almost before they had time to think. The guards blustered into Schnither’s room on Graygor’s heels, but were hastily bundled back out again through the open doors by Schnither, who had been impatiently awaiting word on the Wrens’ progress.
Schnither slammed the great door shut with just the slightest twitch of a finger, and without ever making physical contact with any part of it. “Now, Graygor, we are alone. Quickly, what news?”
“The girl and her family are on the move, Sir. They are en route to the airport via the Otonno house, and do not suspect a thing. My brother and I stayed with them all night, and none of those bumbling mortals sensed anything untoward.” Graygor paused, and the miniscule moment of hesitation was enough to cause Schnither’s head to jerk up and his mouth gaped open in an instant of uncertainty and panic.
“And?” snarled Schnither. “What went wrong?”
Graygor could see that his Captain was on edge, and realised that Abaddon the Defiler must be utterly intent on executing whatever he had planned to the last degree.
“Nothing, Captain,” he retorted quickly, anxious to appease his master and earn respect for himself. “It is just that I am thrilled…” he rolled the word over his hacked purple lips with gusto, “…to be able to report that those stupid angels really have returned to the Celestial City. They thought they were so clever and strong, but how easily they were fooled! Their departure will soon prove premature, and this time there will be nothing at all that they can do about it. They have let the girl down. They have let Him down…” Graygor’s obvious pleasure at what he had just reported was oozing from his entire form like a malevolent cloud, and the words slurped over his green tongue and dripped from his snarling mouth like a putrid slime. He could see that Schnither was pleased, and was sure he would be rewarded for his tenacity and ingenuity.
“Good,” Schnither growled, “It is exactly as I had hoped. The demise of the Wrens is at hand. Now, go back to your brother and continue to monitor the family’s whereabouts. I will assemble the troops here and meet you at the airport forthwith.”
Graygor loitered on in Schnither’s chambers, disappointment and indignation tugging at the sides of his mouth. Had he not been so utterly foul and malevolent, the sorry sight of his downturned bottom lip and little drooped shoulders may even have inspired something akin to sympathy for the wretched creature.
“What is it now?” Schnither barked, startling Graygor out of his self pitying reverie. The stubby little demon jumped and muttered, “Nothing, Captain,” as he turned to leave the room, deeply vexed to not even have his work commended.
“Oh, Graygor,” Schnither’s tone was quieter but nonetheless threatening, as the realisation of Graygor’s disappointment at once amused and annoyed him.
“Yes Sir?” Graygor spun around to find Schnither’s one-eared head just inches from his face, red eyes boring into his face. He squirmed backwards uneasily, but Schnither continued to invade his personal space as he hissed menacingly, “Well done, cretin.” Schnither’s face had twisted into the antithesis of a smile, and Graygor shuddered.
“T-thank you, Captain, it was nothing.” he stammered, and was immediately furious with himself for belittling his own achievements.
“Ah, I see,” smirked Schnither. “Well, if it was nothing, then you won’t be expecting any recompense, will you?” His voice had crescendoed to a booming roar and Graygor cowered beneath his foreboding form.
“No, Sir, it is my honour my Liege.” Graygor started to grovel, but was unceremoniously cut short by Schnither’s thunderous, “Be gone!” Graygor did not have to be told twice, and he turned on his heels and shot out of Schnither’s murky and claustrophobic chambers. He was indignant and smarting from the harsh rebuttal, but he would use his anger to fuel him to complete this mission – and then some! He would forget about Schnither’s failure to acknowledge his genius. Who was Schnither anyway but a jumped up demon with not even half the intelligence or ability that he had! Besides, there was every chance that his exploits would be made famous and perhaps even Abaddon himself would hear of Graygor’s incredible feats of evil and personally give him his due rewards.
CHAPTER 34
For a good part of the thirty minute journey to Johannesburg International Airport, the still bleary eyed and groggy travellers drove in silence. Whether each was merely tired, or whether they were caught up in their own thoughts about the adventure that lay ahead of them could not be easily discerned. As they hit the last stretch of open road before they reached their destination, a flurry of movement away out to the left caught Phoebe’s eye. She strained her eyes to see what the commotion was about, and as a flapping swirling black mass got closer, it morphed into the outline of two small snarly demons – Braygor and Graygor. Phoebe jabbed Demetrius sharply in the ribs with her elbow, causing him to catch his breath and issue an indignant ‘ouch!’ He frowned and looked at his friend questioningly, then followed Phoebe’s horrified gaze and saw for himself the terrible twins, swooping their descent from the skies directly towards the Wren’s Jeep.
“Uh, Dad,” stammered Phoebe, desperate for an excuse to evade certain attack without making her parents suspicious of her peculiar behaviour. “Don’t you think we’re cutting it fine for the airport? Maybe we should hurry up a bit?”
Jack and Eva threw simultaneous questioning glances into the back of the vehicle at Phoebe, who was doing her best to appear casual and nonchalant. Eva chuckled at her daughter’s uncharacteristic desire to hurry. “What’s the rush Phoebs? We’ve got plenty of time.” Ordinarily, getting Phoebe to where she needed to be on time was an unenviable task as she was a typically lackadaisical teenager.
“I know, Mum, it’s just that… uh, what if there’s a massive queue at security? Or they need to check Dem’s papers? Or our bags are too big?” Phoebe was babbling now, hurried words tumbling from her mouth in a jumbl
ed manner that bordered on being nonsensical.
“It’ll be fine, Phoebe,” said Jack. “If I’m not panicking, then there certainly is no reason for you to be!” He smiled contentedly at his own little joke as Eva chuckled again. Her husband had a point– if Jack was saying they were on time, then by anyone else’s standards they must be ridiculously early!
Phoebe glanced nervously again out of the window, the sense of panic rising in her throat. Braygor and Graygor were catching up fast, and were now close enough that she could see Braygor’s green tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth like a bizarre effigy of a puppy, as if so doing somehow made him move faster.
“Well, uh, can you put your window up please, Mum?” spluttered Phoebe. “I’m, uh… cold!” She was getting desperate now and her excuses made less and less sense.
“Cold? Phoebe its over thirty degrees! What on earth is going on with you?” Eva had craned her neck round and was surveying her daughter with a mix of incredulity and concern.
Phoebe didn’t take time to answer, but leaned forward and unceremoniously jammed her arm between her mother’s seat and the car door, frantically grappling for the button to close the car window.
“Phoebe!” Eva protested, annoyed now by her daughter’s pushy behaviour. “Now you need to stop that! What’s gotten into you? Phoebe!”
“Sorry, Mum,” gasped Phoebe as her fingers found the button that operated the window and flicked it upwards. The window slid closed just as the infernal twins reached the Wrens’ Jeep. Graygor shot his wings out like a parachute and pulled back just in time, but Braygor wasn’t so quick, and he slapped face first into the Jeep’s passenger window with an almighty crack.
“What on earth was that?” exclaimed Jack, as he braked and prepared to pull off the road.
“It must have been a bird or something,” surmised Eva. “I didn’t see it, whatever it was. And there doesn’t seem to be any cracked windows.”
“Yes,” Demetrius piped up. “Must have been a bird or maybe a bat?” He looked at Phoebe, who had slumped back in her seat, eyes like saucers. She rolled her eyes at him and mouthed, ‘a bat?’ and Demetrius shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘it was the best I could come up with!’
“But I guess there’s nothing we can do about it now, right? If it was a bird or a bat, it’s gone now, no point looking for it. Best just keep moving so we aren’t late for our flight, eh?” Demetrius was not as adept as Phoebe at sounding offhand, and he was glad that Jack and Eva were apparently putting his peculiar behaviour down to moving nerves.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” agreed Jack, and he accelerated back on to the main road and resumed the remainder of the journey to the airport, which passed off without further incident. Phoebe and Demetrius, shaken by the close encounter with Braygor and Graygor, wakened up quickly and remained on high alert. They had no way of knowing when or where Captain Schnither and his hordes might show up, and the realisation that, for all intents and purposes, they were on their own now weighed heavily on them both.
When the family pulled up at Johannesburg International Airport, Jack parked the Jeep in parking zone D, from where Esau would collect it later in the day as previously agreed. He took a quick look around the Jeep’s interior to ensure that nothing had been left behind, then opened the trunk and heaved out his and Eva’s, Phoebe’s and Demetrius’s luggage. They claimed a case each, slung their hand luggage over their shoulders, and set off in the direction of the terminal building.
The Wrens and Demetrius cleared check-in quickly and without any hold ups. Ever the meticulous doctor, Jack had ordered all of Demetrius’s papers with military precision. He expected there to be no queries, and he was correct in his assumption. The party of four proceeded straight through security and, minus their cumbersome luggage, which they had offloaded at check-in, arrived in the departure lounge with an hour or so to spare. This unhurried, time to kill approach reassured Phoebe. It was an entirely different morning to the rushed adventure of Thursday 15th July when she and her parents had barely made their flight. As far as she was concerned, the less similar this day was to that one, the better.
Jack and Eva headed straight for the cafe, where they ordered lattes and found a quiet table, glad of the chance to sit down and relax after the hustle and bustle of the last few days.
“Do you guys want anything?” Eva asked Phoebe and Demetrius.
“No thanks, Mum, we’ll just go have a look around, stretch our legs,” said Phoebe.
“Okay Honey, but be sure to get back here on good time for boarding.”
“We will, no problem Mum,” replied Phoebe, then she and Demetrius scouted round the bustling departure lounge until they found a table and two seats in a forgotten little corner of the huge room. Phoebe sat down and put her bag on the other seat, while Demetrius went to the kiosk and purchased two cold drinks for them.
“Thanks, Dem,” Phoebe said as she gratefully gulped cold orange juice through her red striped straw. “I’m so thirsty! I guess being hounded by demons will give a girl a thirst!” She puffed out her cheeks, wafting her bangs from her forehead, then sighed deeply and looked across the table at Demetrius. “Aren’t you even slightly flustered?” she asked, somewhat bemused by his apparent nonchalance.
Demetrius continued to sip thoughtfully on his orange juice for a moment before setting the bottle down on the table and looking up at his friend.
“Of course I’m flustered, Bird,” he began. “In fact, if I started to think about this whole crazy adventure too much, I reckon I’d just turn around and go home right now! But I can’t do that – we can’t do that. You heard what Cosain said – this is our time, there are things for us to do. So, the way I see it, we can panic a bit, get ourselves all stressed out and scared – or, we can trust that there is a destiny for our lives, and that Cosain and those awesome warriors have got our backs. I know it’s scary without them right by our sides, but they know what they’re doing. We gotta trust them, Phoebs.”
“I guess.” Phoebe started, although her furrowed brows did not loosen any. “It’s just… Well, it’s just that I can’t help thinking about last time. What if Cosain doesn’t time this thing right? What if Schnither and the other delinquents outsmart the angels? Demetrius, what if this plane goes down too?”
Much to her frustration and despite her best efforts to stop them, Phoebe’s eyes filled with tears, and she blinked furiously in an attempt to stop them flooding down her flushed cheeks. Demetrius looked at her with kind, sympathetic eyes.
“What if…” he said. “What if Cosain knows exactly what he’s doing? What if our angelic heroes save the day? What if we get safely home to Ireland and discover our amazing destiny? You don’t want to miss those ‘what ifs’ now do you?”
Phoebe wiped her eyes and smiled at Demetrius – he definitely always had the right words for her. “You’re right, Dem,” she said quietly. “Life is sometimes about taking chances, eh?”
“It sure is,” Demetrius smiled in response. “Now come on, drink up, it’s almost fly time and we definitely don’t want to keep your folks waiting!”
Phoebe slurped the last of her juice from the bottom of the bottle, wiped her mouth with a thin white napkin, then she dropped both empty bottles in the refuse bin and she and Demetrius headed back towards the cafe to find Jack and Eva.
Above them, unnoticed by the teenagers, Braygor and Graygor hovered close to the terminal’s glass ceiling. The diminutive mischief makers had been joined by Schnither and numerous other demons, and now they congregated like an undulating black cloud. It looked like some kind of freakish side show whose ranks were increasing by the minute.
“It is almost time,” Graygor chuckled. “Our moment has almost come. Abaddon the Defiler will see how lucky he is to have professional scoundrels like us on his team, eh brother?”
Braygor’s hacked purple lips broke into a distorted grin. “Yes brother, we will make His Heinousness proud, we will show him our worth – even
if Schnither is too stupid to see it!” And the repulsive twins snorted and chortled with glee.
CHAPTER 35
In the heart of the Celestial City, Solas, Dilis, Trean, Neam and Croga were awaiting the return of Cosain and Lasair, who had gone directly to the Throne Room of the Atoner to update Him on the progress of Phoebe Wren, her parents and Demetrius. The angelic brothers sat on the translucent emerald walls of the city’s Rapha Fountain, whose crystal clear waters ran day and night and possessed the power to heal the battle wounds of the Heavenly Host. On any other day, the angels would have been soothed by the sound of the fountain’s gently flowing water, and would have drunk in the beauty all around them – the cloudless cyan skies, the radiant crimson hue of the sun, the shimmering golden streets. But today, all of the warriors were on edge, anxious to hear word back from the Atoner, and eager to return to their mission without further delay.
“Should we not be on our way back to Phoebe?” queried Dilis, standing to his feet and stretching for the fiftieth time. “I just feel better when she is within my sights.” He sighed, stretched again and paced a few steps back and forth along the front of the fountain.
“I know, brother,” agreed Trean, his bright blue eyes clouded with concern for the angels’ young ward, albeit almost imperceptible, for he was a trusting soul. “But we can rest assured that the Atoner knows exactly what He is doing – we have seen firsthand how He delivers and redeems time after time, and yet we still marvel at His ingenuity. This will be no different. He knows best, we’ve just got to trust and do what He asks.” Trean smiled kindly at Dilis. He was the youngest of the Heavenly Host, and was not as experienced as Trean, who had pledged his allegiance to the Atoner aeons before Dilis was even created. The youngster was eager and brave and loyal, and his trepidation was entirely forgivable. Trean had no doubt that, in time, Dilis would become as assured as he and the other angels were of the infallibility of the Atoner’s divine plans.
Phoebe Wren and the Vortex of Light Page 13
